"Techno-Chefs" in Chicago Magazine

[ronnie_suburban]

There is a very interesting piece by Jonathan Black in the January 2005 issue of Chicago Magazine entitled "Techno-Chefs."

They're young.  They're smart.  They've got impeccable restaurant pedigrees and imagination to match.  And now three talented Chicago chefs are leading a science-based culinary revolution from their lab-like kitchens.

Of course, the article is about none other than Grant Achatz (Alinea), Homaro Cantu (Moto), Graham Elliot Bowles (Avenues) and the "avant garde" culinary movement which they are now leading in Chicago.

Has anyone read this article? What are your thoughts about it?

=R=

[paul o' vendange]

I haven't read the article (no longer live in Chicago), but the idea is interesting. Like the birth of all movements and paradigms, it is apparent something wonderful and consequential may be happening which merits attention over time; as a former Chicagoan, I look forward to watching over the coming years. I wish all three chefs the best of great fortunes.

Perhaps this is a subject for another thread, and if preferred I could gladly open the topic elsewhere, but all of this has piqued my curiosity. I appreciate the genius of Chefs Achatz, Cantu, Bowles, and indeed their progenitor Chef Adria, and I could never be their equal. But I wonder, to paraphrase Andre Soltner - is there any new food? Or perhaps, in light of the work of these chefs, where clearly there is new food, I ask in all sincerity:

What is the purpose of cuisine? What do people dine out for?

I should mention I am Chef/Owner of Waterstone, in the Upper Peninsula; I consider my food to be simple, straightforward, but rigorous: I pay attention to sourcing (Hudson Valley Moulard; locally bred and raised Muscovy; Jamison Farms braised shoulder of lamb, berkshire pork, etc.), we manage a running larder of 8-9 meat, game and shellfish stocks and prepare integral sauces derived from them. My philosophy and taste lie where I consider to be the polar opposite of molecular gastronomy and hence the above question. I know in our case, I simply want people to be comforted by the food and dazzled, if they are, by the depth and clarity of flavor therein rather than by any wizardry I might employ. But I make no judgments on employing one's wizardry (i.e., pea emulsion raviolis, evanescent-aroma balloons), and wonder what fellow egulleters' philosophy might be on the topic.

All of it interesting.

Cheers,

Paul

[Suzi Edwards]

I just read the article. I think it's great that these chefs are being recognised, but I felt the article was trying just a teensy bit too hard to create a movement (the ABC of Chicago dining anyone?) The discussion that goes on here is more passionate and enticing about these chefs. I could be totally wrong here, but I didn't get a sense that the author had eaten much of the food, even less that they were really doing anything other than churning out copy.

I've made my thoughts about Avenues clear before, I would have prefered the article to be about Achatz and Cantu. But there's no ABC without Bowles and three chefs is more of a movement. The more I read about Bowles' food, the more I am at risk of becoming completely paranoid as to why I wasn't served anything remotely innovative. I can only comment on what I was served and it didn't match what he talks about doing.

*Ducks to avoid incoming flack*

However, I'm glad that the article was written. Only next time I want to read something in the Sunday Times because then I'll know that Chicago is getting the respect it deserves as a serious, global food town.

[Lady T]

Attempts to condense Chicago dining down to 'ABC' are doomed, and I wish to goodness writers would knock it off. The diversity and depth of our scene needs the whole alphabet, all the numerals, and probably a few characters that haven't been invented yet (paging ChefG: any linguistics experts on your crew yet?). I'd only be surprised if molecular gastronomy didn't have artists in practice here -- and adherents arguing with detractors to accompany them.

The questions of art and comfort and originality Paul raises are fascinating and they argue several different ways, of course, but the bottom line for me is flavor, always. I don't wanna play with food that isn't going to be delicious, and if that means a plain-but-heavenly-tasting saute of chicken rather than a cool-looking but unsatisfying inflated confection with foam on top sitting on a bed of unidentified fried diced riced gene-spliced concasse of nobody-can-quite-remember-what -- then, for Heaven's sake, please pass the chicken! The experience I remember from Trio last year was, first and foremost, of miraculous tastes combined in an amazing sequence and partnered by (bless you, Joe Catterson!) superb wine choices. The playfulness of the shapes/textures/aromas made that succession all the more memorable -- but I would have gone home happy with that exquisite parade of flavors singing in my memory even without the supremely cool presentations.

[ronnie_suburban]

Attempts to condense Chicago dining down to 'ABC'  are doomed, and I wish to goodness writers would knock it off.  The diversity and depth of our scene needs the whole alphabet, all the numerals, and probably a few characters that haven't been invented yet (paging ChefG: any linguistics experts on your crew yet?).  I'd only be surprised if molecular gastronomy didn't have artists in practice here -- and adherents arguing with detractors to accompany them.

←

Well put and I agree with you about the complexity and depth of the Chicago food/dining scene but I didn't think the article attempted to condense said scene at all. I thought it was a thoughtful piece that attempted to inform and entertain those who may not be familiar with this particular facet of Chicago's food universe.

The questions of art and comfort and originality Paul raises are fascinating and they argue several different ways, of course, but the bottom line for me is flavor, always.  I don't wanna play with food that isn't going to be delicious, and if that means a plain-but-heavenly-tasting saute of chicken rather than a cool-looking but unsatisfying inflated confection with foam on top sitting on a bed of unidentified fried diced riced gene-spliced concasse of nobody-can-quite-remember-what -- then, for Heaven's sake, please pass the chicken!  The experience I remember from Trio last year was, first and foremost, of miraculous tastes combined in an amazing sequence and partnered by (bless you, Joe Catterson!) superb wine choices.   The playfulness of the shapes/textures/aromas made that succession all the more memorable -- but I would have gone home happy with that exquisite parade of flavors singing in my memory even without the supremely cool presentations. 

←

Again, I agree. And based on the time I've spent with chefg, I'm fairly certain he'd agree as well. If the flavors aren't there to begin with, no amount of further exploration (whether it be plating method, service piece used or food preparation) is going to be worth the time it takes. When the goal of being creative surpasses the focus on the flavors, then the entire task merely leans toward the self-indulgent.

=R=

[tan319]

I got the mag today and greatly enjoyed the article.

It was interesting to find that chef Bowles and Cantu know each other somewhat and it's alway great to read about chefG.

One or two things strike me as curious though.

Bowles is quoted as saying no chef opens the CDROM of the El Bulli book.

I realize that that's a generalization (I certainly have spent some time with it) but somehow, I find it hard to believe that everyone stumbled on concepts like powdering frozen substances in Pacojets or even the Alginate/CC formulas at the same time( I have read the interview with chefG where he was turned on to the SA/CC ingredients at a food show the week before the NYTimes Adria article, and believe it).

I'm not criticising anyone, just concerned that chefs are too worried about crediting influences to the point where they kind of forget if the cart came before the horse.

To me, F.A. and Alberto are going to possibly be as important to cuisine as Escoffier and Careme were (maybe I should duck to avoid that incoming flack too, tarka), and people like Achatz, Dufresne & Mason, Cantu and others are going to contribute greatly also.

Perhaps it's already a given that the Adria's have been a major influence but, that paragraph, in particular caught my eye.

Congrats to the ABC's though!!!

[ChefGEB]

I apologize if my comments came accross in the wrong way, but I certainly do feel that the idea of working out of a cookbook is dead and gone. Personally, I look at cooking as any other art that is open to personal interpretation; both for the guest and the chef. I liken fingering through a chefs cookbook to observing great art in a museum. You can pull many things from it, and if your lucky, it can inspire you to create things of your own.

Of course a lot of chefs are inspired by Adria, Trotter, Keller etc, but the goal always has to be to find your own voice. What Jackson Pollack, Pablo Picasso or Piet Mondrian painted at the begining of their careers was much diffrent than what they ended up being famous for. It takes time, and many chef are at the beining stages of finding thier own true path.

With regards to the Techno Chefs article in Chicago Magazine, it is an honor to be included with such amazing talents as Chef Cantu and Chef Achatz. However, I would be willing to bet that if you dined at our restaurants (moto, alinea and avenues respectively), you would receive three totally diffrent experiences. At times, we may tend to share a lot of the same philosophies and approaches to cooking, but at the end of the day, all chefs cook from what seems right in their hearts. I am anxious to see the "forward thinking" cuisine grow, especially in Chicago. This city is among the most creative in the country, and I am truly happy to be cooking in it.

Happy new years,

ChefGEB

www.gebowles.com

[tan319]

Wow, that was fast!

No need to apologize in any way.

I'm not really talking about anybody "working" out of a cookbook.

However, looking at a dish, say, in '98/02' and opening up that 'Rom to see how something was achieved and maybe applying that technique to something of your own is a different thing, and is something I personally wouldn't be disappointed by.

When I first saw your website after the F&W 10 best, Chef, and I say this with the utmost respect, I certainly could see some influences in your menu, and that added to my interest in what you do.

And I would expect all of you guys to be a totally different experience and that's reflected in menus that I see online of all of yours and other info I see.

Keep up the good work.

[KendallCollege]

food can never be art, it is a craft...like architecture.

however,

when you go to an art gallery, you come with your mind made-up. you are there to take in art. you walk in and you take in the whole "scene". the ambiance. your mind sets a mood that you will view the art through. and all of your senses become acute and you become aware of all things.

this same "effect" is happening in chicago in a handful of restaurants. this is not supposed to happen...typically...but it's happening...no fighting it now.

i chose this city to study culinary arts for a damn good reason...and ferran adria told me...culinary arts should be studied in four categories...historic, classic, nouvelle, and contemporary...chicago has 3/4 of that and thats why its important...the past, present, and future of food is right in front of us.

i know beef wellington, lobster thermidor, and chicken kiev will never die...and i take comfort in that...but we should TRY to be apart of forward-thinking food as well. why read the books later when you can say that you are a PART of it NOW?

trevor williams

-culinary student at Kendall College-

Edited January 14, 2005 by KendallCollege (log)

[Lactic Solar Dust]

food can never be art, it is a craft...like architecture.

Actually, food is neither an art or craft, but materials consisting of essential body nutrients to maintain life and growth. However, I believe that cooking, as properly stated, is a craft that can be done in a very artful way.

Edited January 15, 2005 by Lactic Solar Dust (log)

[KendallCollege]

You can have your essential body nutrients, vitamins, and minerals. You can satiate your bodily needs any way you like...but if you walk into a fine-dining restaurant with only those set ideals in mind, you're wasting your money. wake up in the morning, eat some oatmeal and take a multi-vitamin...have some granola, a green salad with tuna on top, and a pint glass of milk for lunch...eat some turkey with a boiled potato and a glass of white wine for dinner...there's your essential body nutrients...

i believe that we were talking about "chef's food"...the food a guest receives during a dinner service at a nice restaurant...

the service industry argument/opinion of "food as art" .vs. "food as craft" is a long-running and exhausting argument...however...i know what food is and so do YOU...no need to cheapen the very industry i burn, bleed, and sweat to make YOU happy over.

you want your nutrients, eat a vitamin with your special K cereal in the morning...i'll see you at dinner that night...

i sincerely apologize for being brash...i appreciate my industry for more than a means of gaining "essential body nutrients".

trevor williams

-culinary student/professional at Kendall College-

[Hobbes]

Hey there,

I would love to comment on molecular gastronomy as it applies to Chicago but really can only comment on my own experiences via Moto, since I was part of the opening team and I have not yet had a chance to eat Chef Achatz or Chef Bowles cuisine. I have since moved out the the Chicago area (I now live in DC) I have not yet read the article. Usually the Chicago Mag dose not post their articles but if by chance someone comes across an online version I would love to see it.

Moto in its conception was built to explore the side of food as a gastronomic and conceptual experience. Food as tool, to explore new flavors, textures, and service with a myriad of combinations. These combinations are forged to create a new place in the diner's mind, as a catalyst to experience new sensations and ways to think and feel about food.

This conceptual element upon the dining experience is art it self. Moto's food has a goal in mind, as dose modern (or avant garde) art; to open the viewer (or eater in this case) to a new way of thinking or feeling. Moto is a huge success in this goal and not only is developing this school of thought in Chicago (along with Alinea and Avenues) but on a national (international) level as well. Cantu has said he wants to only create what is new and not use techniques to get products or results that a chef has used previously. As example, frozen foie gras powder. At Moto they will use a paco jet to get frozen powders or "sorbets" but will try very hard not to recreate the wheel. Cantu really dose not what his chefs to read cookbooks as a borrowing tool for completed dishes but used as inspiration I think he would be ok with. As ChefGEB said above and agree with as well:

Of course a lot of chefs are inspired by Adria, Trotter, Keller etc, but the goal always has to be to find your own voice. . . . I would be willing to bet that if you dined at our restaurants (moto, alinea and avenues respectively), you would receive three totally diffrent experiences.  At times, we may tend to share a lot of the same philosophies and approaches to cooking, but at the end of the day, all chefs cook from what seems right in their hearts.

←

Chicago has always been ahead of the curve in the restaurant industry by setting the standard the rest of the country's chefs go by. This was true in the 1980's with Charlie Trotter's (with helping the country's restaurants get behind the "seasonal movement") and now it is true, more than ever ,as the country looks towards Chicago as Bowles, Achatz and Cantu lead the way (and of course Spain, with Adira's forging of this movement). . . .

. . . .Wow I miss Chicago

-Hobbes-

Edited January 19, 2005 by Hobbes (log)

[ronnie_suburban]

The folks at Chicago Magazine have graciously granted us permission to reprint the article here:

=R=

=====

"Techno-Chefs" by Jonathan Black

This is a test. In front of you on a table is a small metal contraption

with constricting spidery arms. On the wall, a list headed "Tools from

Other Disciplines" includes an "Oil Extraction Screw Press" and a "Disc

Bowl Centrifuge." A large carton on the floor is labeled "Heat Gun."

You are in: a) the lab of Frankenstein; b) the dungeon of a

dominatrix; c) the office of Grant Achatz, a chef.

If you picked "c," consider

yourself a foodie, and a cutting-edge one at that. Certainly you've heard

of Achatz, the former chef at Trio and now on the verge of opening his

own restaurant in Lincoln Park, the highly anticipated Alinea

(pronounced "uh-LINN-ee-uh"). Perhaps you've already booked a table. You

wouldn't be alone. Achatz is part of the latest gourmet trend, put forth by

forward-thinking chefs: Some call it "culinology"; others call it

engineered food.

Whatever it is, the movement's epicenter is here in Chicago, and

includes two other high-profile chefs, Graham Elliot Bowles at Avenues and

Homaro Cantu at Moto. They're all under 31, they're all affable, chatty,

and guileless-and they're all pushing the envelope like never before.

Jacques Derrida is dead, but don't tell these deconstructionists. They

manipulate food. They take apart its components. They smash it in

centrifuges or throw it into dehydrators or hit it with nitrous oxide. Some

people call them science geeks.

You know they're artists.

Here is one of Achatz's new ideas. He's going to serve something but

you won't know what it is. It will be totally concealed in a container.

Most likely the "dish" won't even be identified on the menu. On Achatz's

computer it's a silvery ball that pops open when you squeeze it-"Kind

of like a European change purse," he notes-and shoots the food into your

mouth. You'll recognize it instantly-or what it tastes like. If this

sounds more like Jeopardy! than fine dining-well, you're out of the loop,

pal. You like your PB&J with stuff from a jar between slices of bread.

Here's how Achatz will serve up his PB&J amuse. He'll dunk two skinned

grapes on a stem into homemade peanut butter, wrap them in micro-thin

bread, and zap it with a heat gun to turn the grapes into "jelly."

Maybe you wonder whether these guys can actually cook-or whether

they're like cubists who picked the art form because they couldn't draw

faces. Rest easy. Bowles was among Food & Wine's best new chefs in 2004.

Achatz was in F & W's class of 2002. Cantu was named Chicago's best new

chef in the pages of this magazine last May. And they have worked in some

of the top kitchens in the country, including The French Laundry

(Achatz), Tru (Bowles), and Charlie Trotter's (all three).

The new upheaval in the kitchen took off during the late nineties in

Spain, centered on trailblazing chefs Joan Roca, Andoni Luis Aduriz,

and, most famously, Ferran Adrià at his legendary restaurant on the Costa

Brava in Spain, El Bulli. A few others stand on Adrià's shoulders in

the United States, notably José Ramón Andrés at Minibar in Washington,

D.C., and Wylie Dufresne at WD-50 in New York. But Chicago is ground zero

in terms of talent and concentration, and the reasons are Achatz,

Bowles, and Cantu. All three share a derring-do and irreverence, which

Bowles attributes to youth. All live to produce fare that's not just unusual

but unique.

Avenues might seem an unlikely locale for Bowles to lead a daring

culinary revolution. It's the high-end restaurant in The Peninsula

Chicago-a place so swank it was crowned the top hotel in America by the Zagat

Survey. You could drive a bus between the tables, and the linen is so

cushy it feels like a bed. Under its former chef David Hayden, it was a

luxury seafood restaurant. In August 2004, Hayden left, and Bowles, who

had previously spent five years in Chicago but at the time was

thrilling patrons at The Jackson House Inn in Woodstock, Vermont, applied for

the job and got it.

"The majority of the menu at Avenues is very straightforward," Bowles

quickly points out. "Frog legs risotto with shaved truffles and fried

parsley and garlic emulsion. It's all classic. Of course, on the chef's

menu," he adds with a twinkle, "you're putting yourself in the chef's

hands." One dish consists of blood sausage and a sea scallop-live. "If

you drop a little salt you can watch it twitch." He pops oysters into a

soda gun, which injects them with CO2 to give them "fizz." He serves

foie gras on a stick, encased in Pop Rocks, and calls it a "foie-lipop."

Eggplant soup? "We'll start with olives and purée them, then hit them

with a little nitrous, which turns them into black foam, kind of like

shaving cream." To replicate the traditional pairing of lamb with mint

jelly, he pulverizes Altoids and serves them with sautéed spinach topped

off with a little jus. "You think it's really menthol in flavor because

of the Altoids," he says. He makes his corn soup with Corn Nuts-the

kind you get at a gas station. "I buzz them into a powder. You can spend

30 hours trying to duplicate that great taste or buy it at a store. The

idea in a classic kitchen is that everything has to be made in the

kitchen. But nobody's harvesting their own flour. Nobody's harvesting sugar

cane. So everything's fair. It's fair game."

Bowles does respect the sanctity of fresh organic ingredients. He

likes a good steak and broils it like anyone else. He's no wild man at the

stove. He plates food in the open kitchen at Avenues much like a

surgeon in the operating theatre, bent studiously over his work, exuding calm

and confidence. Like his compatriots, he's a man working at the top of

his profession. (See Dennis Ray Wheaton's review in Dining Out, page

44.) Bowles is not one to indulge in change for its own sake. "You can

create a dish that explodes and think, Sure, they got rushed to the

hospital, but isn't it cool? No," he says. "We do try and restrain

ourselves."

Homaro Cantu of Moto goes so far out on a limb, no one's ever used

the word "restraint" to describe him. His kitchen is unlike any other.

The garde-manger-a cool, well-ventilated area where cold dishes are

prepared-is dwarfed by four cylinders (two of carbon dioxide, one of helium,

and one of liquid nitrogen) that look big enough to power a space

probe. There are stacks of strange-looking clear boxes that might contain

lab mice. But no; they're Cantu's self-cooking ovens, which, thanks to an

ingenious layer of polymer, retain heat for up to six hours if

unopened. Cantu brings a box to 350 degrees in an oven, slides in a piece of

fish, and then it's delivered to your table, where, through a couple of

courses, you watch it cook.

"Would you like a piece of maki?" he asks. What he offers me is a

business card-size piece of paper with pictures of maki. On the back are

dozens of microdots, intense flavors of rice and tuna and seaweed wrap. I

bite off half. I could be at Mirai Sushi.

"It's on water-soluble paper. The image on the front is printed with

edible ink. I took a bubble-jet printer fitted with specially designed

print heads. The orange comes from carrots; the black's from a mix of

beets and purple potatoes. I can create any color or flavor. It's vegan,

[and] no calories whatsoever. It's become one of our favorite items.

Lots of people request it to go. A lady wanted 30 for a private party at

home. Here-have another."

Cantu is a friendly fellow, but he peers with an otherworldly intensity

from behind squarish brown-framed glasses. He's the guy whose answers

you tried to copy in high-school chemistry. He always wanted to invent.

Right now he's got patents or patents pending on 30 inventions,

including the polymer boxes and his corkscrew utensils. He's very pleased with

these spoons and forks. They enable him to thread herbs through the

handles or stick on a piece of garlic zapped with a heat gun.

"Flavor is perceived 75 percent through smell; that's your palatable

experience. With these utensils you close your mouth and inhale. It's 75

percent taste you don't usually get."

He works in conjunction with DeepLabs, a high-tech network of 15

scientists, several of whom are aerospace engineers and rocket scientists.

According to Cantu, the Chicago-based company does 90 percent of the

surveillance work for the FBI. It was thanks to DeepLabs that Cantu just

received the first restaurant shipment in North America of

liquid

nitrogen. He is very excited about the lethal gas. It means he can make hot

ice cream. Tiny pellets will be frozen on the outside but remain gooey

warm inside. He can't say enough about DeepLabs. Whatever he dreams up

they oblige with a device or product to help make it happen. Right now

he's thinking of food that levitates. He is working on ways to invisibly

support food, including injecting helium into foams and spherical

encapsulations that would be lighter than air. "I will not sleep until it

happens," he says. Also in his dreams, guests can eat a menu. It will

arrive in a plastic bag. Then the diner will crunch it up and empty it

into a bowl of "alphabet soup." Cantu is also thinking about an inflated

ball of helium that will spin and release a food-friendly perfume.

Aroma, you understand, is the next frontier.

"But everything has to taste good," he adds. "If you give someone a

maki paper it's got to taste more like a maki than a maki itself. If it

doesn't you're in trouble. Then it's a David Copperfield act with no

finish. You can't charge this much per meal [$160 for an 18- to 25-course

tasting menu] and have people walk away hungry." In November, Moto

announced plans to enlarge the front cocktail lounge and offer customers

small sample plates-before they commit to the full tasting menu. The

moves had insiders wondering if the original program was too far out for

commercial success, but Cantu-who does things his own way-insists

everything is on track.

Achatz, too, has come up with a crop of new devices. Trio, during his

glorious reign from 2001 to 2004, was known for its unusual

presentations, including "The Antenna," a skewer that allowed diners to eat

without using their hands. He was fond of the vertical, constantly pushing to

get past food that "lay down." Now, like Cantu, he wants to suspend

food, "like when you hang clothes out to dry and the wind blows them."

He's very big on freeze-dried food, and he loves his heat gun. ("The air

that comes out is 950 degrees. It's basically a hair dryer on

steroids.")

At Alinea some items will be served on the "anti-plate," a hockey

puck-size spoon holder that elevates the utensil's handle for easy removal.

His ideas extend to the restaurant itself, in particular the entryway.

"It's such a crucial point. It's the diner's first and last impression.

Coming in, we want a feeling of excitement, a little disorientation,

intrigue, and anticipation. We don't want people to immediately see the

restaurant."

So don't expect to sail in and wave to your guest at a table. Achatz

plans to create a narrowing hallway with a tapering wall that looks as if

it had come from a fun house. On leaving, you should experience

something "warm, comfortable, familiar," he says. Tricky recessed lighting,

hidden on entering, will emit a "beautiful white luminous light" as you

stagger out after 25 courses.

Cantu has gone him one better-he has deconstructed the very idea of a

restaurant, or at least its hierarchy. The entire staff rotates from

the kitchen through the dining room on a regular basis. A cook may be a

busboy one evening and a server the next. If all goes as planned, every

member of the staff will be a certified sommelier within a year. The

evening I was in the basement kitchen a call came over the internal

public-address system: More waiters were needed. Andreas, a photography

student with no prior restaurant experience (he had always wanted to work

in a restaurant and answered an ad), was in the midst of caramelizing

micronets of sugar around popcorn with a blowtorch. He immediately

snuffed the flame and bounded upstairs.

The son of an engineer, Cantu grew up in the Pacific Northwest. He did

time at Portland's outpost of the famed Parisian cooking school Le

Cordon Bleu, then dropped in on the kitchens of more than 40 restaurants

for brief internships-a practice called a "stage" (pronounced "stazh")

after the French, "sta-gière." Certain he was ready for the big time, he

came to Chicago and literally knocked on Charlie Trotter's back door.

Trotter agreed to give him a day's tryout; Cantu stayed for four years,

working his way up to sous-chef.

When asked about Cantu and Bowles, Trotter is complimentary but

guarded. "They're two quality hardworking guys. Both are forging ahead and

challenging the accepted norms. Of course it's easy to be in the moment,"

he adds. "It takes more wherewithal to run the marathon."

Cantu, for one, insists he's in for the long haul. "Do I think it will

work?" he asks. "I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it

work." If it does, he'll owe a nod of gratitude to Trotter. "I took a

dramatic turn when I started working at Charlie Trotter's. I saw his

attention to detail. He'd walk through a room and see a speck and say, 'What is

this mess?' What mess? It was a tiny piece of dirt. But it got me to

focus."

He hooked up with Joseph DeVito, a native of Chicago's Little Italy who

had put in years at Tufano's Vernon Park Tap and later progressed to a

Taylor Street staple, La Vita. DeVito met Cantu in 2003 and thought he

was brilliant; within a year, Moto opened. It was a seminal event in

the forward food movement. With Achatz wowing guests at Trio, the city

was gathering critical mass, a point Cantu stressed to his friend-and

fellow Trotter alum-Bowles. "I told Elliot a year ago when he went to

Vermont, 'I'm going to be doing my food and Grant's going to be doing his

and Chicago's going to be the hotbed for food ideas.' Chicago's filled

with young, savvy foodies. Given the huge number of steak houses, these

younger people want to experience weird things and wind up in clubs or

bars. There's no place for them now."

It's unlikely that many "younger people" will be padding across the

deep carpet at The Peninsula and into Avenues. But Bowles is every bit as

excited as Cantu about Chicago. "Was it the major reason I came here?

Sure," he says. "Everyone knows about San Fran and New York. But take

New York. You've got chefs doing 600 covers a night because the rent's

$30,000 for this tiny room. So you have to do salmon with red wine sauce.

You play it safe. There's no opportunity to be creative." Even the

purported wild man of forward thinking in New York, Wylie Dufresne at the

Lower East Side's WD-50, faced resistance when he opened in 2003.

William Grimes, then The New York Times's dining critic, called the dishes

"borderline freakish," and weighed in at a disappointing two stars.

Dufresne sounds almost rueful when asked about Chicago's new scene. "I hold

Chicago in high esteem," he says. "I'm interested that people are

taking these new, exciting steps to build a movement there. Maybe it will

translate to one here."

For his part, Bowles will continue offering a nice piece of beef on the

three-course prix fixe menu-both Moto and Alinea are strictly

tasting-but he's got plenty of tricks up his sleeve, if you happen to be

interested. He adores his soda gun so much that he throws in oysters and

carbonates with glee. He also drops water into calcium chloride and combines

lemon juice with sodium alginate-the chemical used to make gelcaps-"and

all of a sudden I'm creating these lemon gelcaps that look like tiny

balls of caviar that pop in your mouth." He's got 400 dishes on his

handheld planner. He scrolls down the list, stopping at random. Ooni ice

cream with yuzu foam. A coconut Key lime pie with a curried crust and

Arnolti chilies. Cornflake-crusted bay scallops with milk jam.

Where does he get his ideas? Everywhere. "I think of food 24 hours a

day. I'll be at a stoplight and see the red and think, Gee, berries are

in season. What if I did a berry purée and put it in a dehydrator and

made it a fruit loop, then wrapped it around a raw piece of fish? It's

like being a musician. You're always riffing." One thing Bowles never

does is go to a cookbook. Not for recipes, anyway. "No one uses cookbooks

for recipes," he says disdainfully. "They look at the pictures. It's

all about who can plate. El Bulli, the mecca, the temple, came out with a

cookbook. It's $300 and two inches thick. It's all pictures with a

little CD-ROM of recipes. I guarantee no chef has ever opened the CD-ROM."

Certainly no one is using a recipe at Alinea's test kitchen in

Kenilworth. Instead there's a fat binder with probable menu items like

"Stuffed Leeks" and this single instruction: "Basically just determine the

best way to cook them and hollow them out. We will work on the flavors

later."

The kitchen is in the home of the entrepreneur Nick Kokonas, who used

to eat at Trio monthly, and became such a rabid fan of Achatz that he

happily funded Alinea. It's a fabulous kitchen with woodwork to die for

and a six-burner hooded Viking stove. Achatz imported a few appliances

of his own, such as a Cryovac food packager and the $4,000 Swiss

Pacojet, an industrial-strength blender with fearsome blades that Kokonas says

"could go through concrete." It's being used to shave slivers off

hard-as-rock frozen apple sorbet, just to see how it will turn out.

Achatz is here with his two sous-chefs, John Peters and Curtis Duffy,

both Trio veterans. Three months before the Alinea opening, he is

creating new dishes and fine-tuning others. Right now he's got a KitchenAid

mixer

furiously frothing water from steamed mussels and clams, plus

aromatics, Pernod, and vermouth, to create what he's calling a "shellfish

sponge." Fifteen minutes later it's inflated into a poofy meringuelike

pillow. Achatz scoops up several spoonfuls and slathers them atop a

ringed puddle of pear purée. Around it he adds intricate tiny forms he has

carved from a pear, then tops the pear city with slivers of mussels and

clams and, finally, micro fennel and a sprinkling of licorice powder.

"It'll be a transitional course," he explains, "from sweet into savory.

With the pear and licorice it's a good transition after the four-course

dessert. It's right in the middle of the largest tasting menu, probably

dishes 17 to 21."

Elsewhere in the kitchen his team is working to thin the membrane of a

tiny caramel sphere, which will be injected with powders of cream,

butter, and egg yolk. It's the Alinea dried crème brûlée and will be served

in the "squid," a gizmo that clutches the food with contracting metal

threads. In final stages is an artful clump of stone crab that perches

on a chilled slab of puréed coconut, cashew, and parsnips. Achatz is

particularly enchanted with a single spoon containing the four basic

tastes-sweet, salty, sour, and bitter. Each is represented by a marble-size

translucent ball, created by dropping dollops into a calcium solution.

Amid all the gourmet geekery, it's surprising to stumble across a

simple recipe for a "yummy frosting" in the Alinea binder. The recipe is for

a woman named Angela.

"Oh, that," says Achatz. "It's for my girlfriend's birthday. She likes

the same thing every year. Crabs with drawn butter and German chocolate

cake." He gives a shrug and goes back to his calcium bath.

=====

thanks again to Jonathan Black, Jeff Ruby and everyone at Chicago Magazine

[Lactic Solar Dust]

You can have your essential body nutrients, vitamins, and minerals. You can satiate your bodily needs any way you like...but if you walk into a fine-dining restaurant with only those set ideals in mind, you're wasting your money. wake up in the morning, eat some oatmeal and take a multi-vitamin...have some granola, a green salad with tuna on top, and a pint glass of milk for lunch...eat some turkey with a boiled potato and a glass of white wine for dinner...there's your essential body nutrients...

i believe that we were talking about "chef's food"...the food a guest receives during a dinner service at a nice restaurant...

the service industry argument/opinion of "food as art" .vs. "food as craft" is a long-running and exhausting argument...however...i know what food is and so do YOU...no need to cheapen the very industry i burn, bleed, and sweat to make YOU happy over.

you want your nutrients, eat a vitamin with your special K cereal in the morning...i'll see you at dinner that night...

i sincerely apologize for being brash...i appreciate my industry for more than a means of gaining "essential body nutrients".

trevor williams

-culinary student/professional at Kendall College-

←

Whoa....take it easy, brother. I am part of the industry, too, and fully appreciate the workmanship of fine cuisine. However, my post was a reply to your statement that food can never be art, but a craft. Food in its truest from is neither an art or craft, but cooking, cooking done at a high level, can take on artistic qualities. I am merely making a distinction between food and cooking.

[sizzleteeth]

you want your nutrients, eat a vitamin with your special K cereal in the morning...i'll see you at dinner that night...

trevor williams

-culinary student/professional at Kendall College-

←

Damn Trevor - I didn't know you had it in you!!

It seems that there are distinctions being made within something that contains all elements.

Almost all food, whether specifically formulated to meet any or not, provides some type of nutritional benefit if nothing more than in the form of caloric energy.

Some food requires mechanical preparation which would embody the "craft" element, after all the textbook definition of "Artisan" is "a skilled manual worker; a craftsperson". Other food does not require this, such as wild berries picked off a vine.

Then there is the food which embodies all 3, the plain chicken that is cut just so and arranged carefully and garnished with both respect to flavor, color and other aesthetic or taken much further.

Some crafts purposely take on artistic qualities and some are simply utilitarian in nature, but can take on artistic and aesthetic qualities even though none were purposely instilled.

It seems the food of a Chef would meet the criteria of all 3 elements almost by default.

[KendallCollege]

View whatever you choose however you like.

trev w.

-Kendall College-

[ronnie_suburban]

Jerry Shriver in today's USA Today.com, with a familiar thought:

• At Homaro Cantu's Moto restaurant in Chicago, diners order off the menu. Then they eat the menu. The sheet is made of parmesan-flavored rice paper imprinted with edible soy ink and is framed by puffed rice and freeze-dried shallots and sits atop a bed of crème fraîche. Stir it all up after the waiter leaves, and it tastes like risotto.

• Nearby, at Grant Achatz's 8-month-old Alinea, customers keep their hands folded in their laps as they lean forward and use their lips to pluck a square of pomegranate gelatin and Explorateur cheese from the tip of an elegant, antenna-like prong. Later, another dish will arrive on a pillow filled with anise-scented air.

• A few blocks away at the luxurious Avenues, Graham Elliot Bowles presents a slice of $40-a-pound foie gras atop a spiced Rice Krispies treat and adds pulverized Altoids mints to the lamb jus to boost the minty effect.

Incredible & Edible: In search of extreme cuisine

Nice pic of Chef Cantu, though

=R=

[ulterior epicure]

However, I would be willing to bet that if you dined at our restaurants (moto, alinea and avenues respectively), you would receive three totally diffrent experiences.

I definitely agree with this. I have been to all three (all within a month of each visiting each other) and my experience at each one was markedly different - which was made the experiences so much more interesting and pleasant.

U.E.

[ronnie_suburban]

However, I would be willing to bet that if you dined at our restaurants (moto, alinea and avenues respectively), you would receive three totally diffrent experiences.

I definitely agree with this. I have been to all three (all within a month of each visiting each other) and my experience at each one was markedly different - which was made the experiences so much more interesting and pleasant.

U.E.

←

Me too. I haven't been to Moto but my experiences at Alinea and Avenues have been very distinctive and they didn't remind me of each other very much at all.

=R=